Daughter of Deliverance Read Free Page B

“Well,” he said, “you’re here on time for a change.” He stepped over to Rahab. “It’ll be a good day if you’re nice to me and go fetch some fruit from the stand.”
    Rahab faced him squarely, and her hand went to the pocket in her robe where she carried the knife. “No thank you,” she said sharply. “I’ve had breakfast already.”
    â€œAlways stubborn! Well, go hungry, then. Now go on and get to work.”
    Rahab waited until he left, then glanced at the other women. “He never stops, does he?”
    â€œHe never will,” the woman named Alma said bitterly. “I wish he’d drop dead.”
    â€œHe’s too evil to die,” the third woman said. She was the oldest of the three, and gray streaked her hair. “Evil people live forever.”
    â€œNo they don’t,” Alma said. “It just seems that way.”
    Rahab sat down at the loom and began to work. She was paid by the piece, so her hands flew fast and skillfully over the loom. The other workers also came in, and soon there was a steady hum of clicking shuttles, back and forth, back and forth, and the soft voices of the women murmuring to one another. Outside a dog could be heard howling as if in pain, and indeed all the many sounds of the city waking up filtered in.
    As the morning slowly passed, Rahab thought about Oman, worrying about him. There was so little one could do for a fever! There were some physicians, but most of them she considered frauds, and besides, who had the money to pay for such care?
    At noon she ate the lunch she had brought. Gadiah came in and passed out some fruit to his favorites but offered none to Rahab. As he was talking to one of the younger women, his hand caressing her back, his wife suddenly stuck her head in through the door. She was a fat, greasy woman who hated her husband, knowing well of his dalliances with the women in the shop. “You have a customer if you can leave the women long enough.”
    â€œWho is it?”
    â€œI don’t know, but he has money.”
    Gadiah straightened up and left the room. He was gone for some time—a relief to all the women—but came back accompanied by an obviously wealthy customer. His robes were made out of pure silk, and as he passed close by, Rahab could smell the scent of an expensive ointment used only by the very wealthy.
    â€œThis cloth you see would do very well for the project,” Gadiah was saying. He stopped by Rahab’s area and picked up a piece of the work she had finished. The man took it and examined it closely. “Master Shalmanezer, you will not find finer workmanship in all of Jericho.”
    â€œIt is very good, very well done.” The man called Shalmanezer nodded. He studied it some more, held it up to the light, and then up to his cheek.
    Rahab stole a glance at him. How like a hawk he was with his thin face and beak-like hooked nose. She also noticed his dark complexion and carefully tended fingernails.
    â€œYou did this, young woman?”
    He was watching her now with his glittering dark eyes. His hair was black and oiled.
    â€œYes, master, this is my work.”
    â€œYou are an excellent weaver.”
    â€œOh, Rahab is the finest in the city,” Gadiah said eagerly. “I’m very proud to have such a craftsman in my shop.”
    â€œHow long have you been a weaver?” Shalmanezer asked Rahab.
    â€œThree years, sir.”
    The rich man kept running the cloth through his hands as if to examine it, but his mind was evidently on Rahab. “Are you married, Rahab?”
    â€œOh no, sir.”
    â€œYou have a family?”
    â€œI have my father and two sisters and one small nephew.”
    â€œI see. You are the oldest?”
    â€œNo, my sister Romar is older. I live with her and her husband and my father.”
    â€œYour house is far from here?”
    â€œIt’s on the city wall,